


And Love, that sleepeth there, will keep thee warm

by die_traumerei



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Steve being Steve, Unrepentant Fluff, bucky being an idiot, emphasis on the comfort, pre-sex scene, steve's enormous eyelashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short moment between Steve and Bucky, wherein Bucky takes a break from debauching Captain America to worry about what Steve thinks of the whole metal arm thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Love, that sleepeth there, will keep thee warm

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Wilfred Owen's poem 'My Shy Hand'.

Bucky’s lying in bed — well, not really lying, because beds in the future come with about a thousand pillows, so he’s practically sitting upright, but because Steve is straddling his hips, he’s _emotionally_ on his back, and the thousand pillows might make going to bed kind of a chore but right now?  James Buchanan Barnes is sandwiched between comfort he couldn’t even dream of as a kid and Steve.  A Steve all big and warm and alive and in love with him.

Bucky wraps his arm around that broad back — because he’s still a tiny bit surprised whenever he's reminded that Steve is, like, three of the skinny kid he used to wrap around in bed, the two of them trying to chase away the cold because bedding down with another fella was cheaper than coal.  (And he’s pretty sure they were queer for each other then, just didn’t know how to deal with it.)  It’s not like he’s not aware that Steve is now Total Human Perfection, but he’s known the skinny kid with the death wish for longer.  Takes some getting used to.  (And Steve’s always been Total Human Perfection, for Bucky.  It's just that now everyone else agrees with him, ‘cause they’re morons who need a pretty body to go with that amazing mind.)

They’ve fucked before, but it’s been quick, hungry, grabbing with both hands because they’re each terrified that the other is going to be taken away.  No less love for it, but not the way Bucky wants things to be.  Not that he’s about to entirely give up shoving Steve against the side of the shower and sucking him off in record time, but a man likes a little variety in his life.  And Steve more than deserves to be loved on, and the forces of evil seem to have actually taken a few hours off, and Tony gave them this very nice and very soundproof bedroom, and Mrs. Barnes did not raise an idiot.  (Well, she did, but he’s not an idiot _about this_.)

Steve’s got them both bared to the waist, and Bucky tightens his right arm around Steve’s back, pulling him in for a kiss, drawing it out for as long as he can stand.  They’ve got seventy-odd years of not-kissing to make up for, he reckons, even if they were both on ice for most of that time.  Also, he’s suddenly sort of…scared.  Well, nervous.  Okay, _scared_.

"Hey.  What’s wrong?"  Oh Christ, he can’t hide things from Steve anymore.  Years of Soviet conditioning, _perfecting_ a blank, dead-eyed look, and Captain Jerkface America can read him like a book.  And said Captain Jerkface is sitting back onto Bucky’s thighs, his hands coming up to cup Bucky’s face, and aw hell.  They never hid anything from each other before.

"My arm.  The metal one, I mean."

Steve’s eyes go _huge_ , and his hands wrap around the shiny metal plating that’s Bucky’s hand now, and he _freaks out_.  It would be adorable if it wasn’t worrying.  “Are you okay?  What’s wrong with it?  Should I call Stark?  He’s an ass, but he’s really brilliant, he can fix anything, he’ll fix it, I promise—”

Bucky puts his free hand up to Steve’s mouth to stem the tide of patented Captain America mother-henning.  “Steve!  No, I’m fine.  I’m fine, the arm’s fine.  Just — are _you_ okay with it?  Um.  I mean it’s not exactly…what I was.  I’d understand if you were freaked out by it.  Or by me.  Not having two real arms.”

And _oh Jesus_ Steve’s pulled himself upright and crossed his arms over his chest and he’s got the _look_ , the one that his family probably spent generations breeding for, that can alight every shred of Catholic guilt in the tattered remains of Bucky Barnes’ soul, because Steve Is Shocked and Disappointed In You. 

"James Buchanan Barnes, do you think I would treat any man less for having lost a limb?  Do you think I would have _ever_ even thought about you, or _anyone_ in that way?  Ever, in my life?  No, Bucky, I do not mind that you have a metal arm, I will never mind, and you are never to even entertain the idea that I would have such thoughts, is that understood?”

"Yessir."  How exactly does Steve do that?  They should bottle it, except not, because it’s terrifying and wonderful, and Steve doesn’t mind at all, of course he doesn’t.  Bucky grins, and pulls his lover close again, with both arms this time.  "Also, I’m filled with the overwhelming urge to buy War Bonds right now."

"Meatball."  Steve’s laying soft kisses right at the join between metal and flesh, impossibly gentle for such a big man.  "You can feel things with it, right?  Sensations, I mean?"

"Mmmhmm.  Not as good as real, but good enough."  Bucky’s nuzzling the top of Steve’s head now, pleased that the short, rough blonde hair hasn’t changed at all.

"Can you feel this?"  Steve runs a fingertip up the inside of Bucky’s forearm, tracing the apex of the metal plates that lie there.

"Yes."  And the shiver it sends through is body is ridiculous.  The arm is a machine for killing people, and Steve had turned it into a way to love, to let him feel pleasure, and this is not a metaphor he wants to expand on, thanks anyway.

"How about this?"  And soft, soft kisses, starting at the upper point of the star, trailing down the outside of his shoulder.  Bucky can barely feel the gentle sensations, but they’re there, warm and good and kind.

"This?"

Okay, he actually _can’t_ feel that one, so Bucky twists around, trying to figure out what Steve’s doing, curled around the back of his arm.

"No, what — Steven Rogers, are you _batting your eyelashes on me_?”

Steve cracks up, and Bucky knows he guessed right, and he is so utterly disgusted and, okay, a lot turned on, that he hauls Steve back to lie down on top of him and kiss him properly, and ignore that he can feel those eyelashes against his cheek now, because _really_.

"I’d almost forgot I was dating a damn USO showgirl," he grumbles between kisses, and Steve just laughs, and that settles it, and Bucky sets to work to make sure his fella is utterly, thoroughly, made love to, preferably to the point where he doesn’t even know what an eyelash is, let alone how to deploy them.


End file.
